Pray
by blackwolfmajik
Summary: Abbie finds she is not alone on the other side of Pandora's Gate. (Season 3.5 opener wish-fulfillment - one-shot with possible extensions)
1. Chapter 1

**Pray**

 _Spoilers up through Season 3 mid-season finale_

 _ **AN:**_ _Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

 _ **Inspiration Soundtrack:**_ _"Broken Tooth" - 'Dracula Untold' Soundtrack_

 _ **Join Team Brambie! See the FaceBook page for story news and fan-art!  
facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

Pain.

Everything was pain. Red searing agony that curled her tightly into a ball.

She was afraid to open her eyes, to look down and see the truth of what had happened the moment she stepped through Pandora's Tree.

Afraid to see the flesh crisped away from the bones in her hands, like pork ribs left too long on the grill...

Minutes and a lifetime later, Abbie blinked away her tears to see the world had started to resolve into a slightly brighter shade of darkness.

Rock, black as fresh asphalt, stretched as far as she could see in large crumbled masses. Acrid smoke curled up from hidden vents and settled like blue fog between jagged peaks.

 _Is this Hell?_

There was no movement other than the drifting smoke; she found it both comforting and terrible at the same time. The only feature that broke the endless expanse of black was the pale white tree she huddled under.

Pandora's Gate.

 _Is this where the witch pulled her monsters? What if there are more?_

Fear trickled through her veins as she looked around for any signs of life. Finding only silence and stone, she relaxed slightly. At least nothing had tried to eat her yet.

Unable to distract herself any longer, Abbie dragged her attention back to her ruined hands.

Blackened and peeling, the fingers were curled into useless claws where they had held the Shard of Anubis. She tried to flex the digits through the blinding pain but nearly vomited for her effort. Fluid wept from cracks in her skin, pink with blood.

Unable to help herself, Abbie sobbed as she cradled her arms as gently as she could. Each movement magnified the agony until she was nearly screaming.

"Be silent!" growled a voice suddenly.

Abbie's head snapped up, panic flooding her body with fresh adrenaline.

"My, my," said the man. "Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony."

Looking around, her eyes landed on a familiar figure. "Abraham?"

The Horseman of Death bowed, his smile not reaching his eyes. "Leftenant."

"What are you...?"

His face immediately drew into a scowl. "I met a cloaked woman on the road, wielding magic I have not encountered before."

"Pandora."

"From the myth of the box?"

"Something like that. This one seems to be Sumerian. She, uh...has been giving us a hard time."

The Horseman looked pointedly at Abbie's burned hands. "Clearly."

"What are you doing here?" she snapped angrily. "This is Hell, isn't it? Why aren't you torturing lost souls?"

"I rather thought I was."

Abbie's mouth clicked shut, not wanting to give in to the sudden wave of tears that threatened to fall. _Not in front of him._

"Go away."

A blond brow rose. "I think not."

"Why?"

"It should be obvious."

Abbie was in pain and tired of being played with. "Spit it out!"

The scarlet coat filled her vision as the Horseman brought his angry face down to hers. "Because you are the _key_. Ichabod could not stand for you to remain in Purgatory for mere hours. Do you not think he would move Heaven and Earth to find you once more? All I need do is wait and he will come to us."

"You're using me as bait?"

"As I said: obvious."

"You're horrible!"

"Perhaps, but I am the only thing standing between you and the denizens of this place. I have no wish to stay here and you are my best chance of making an escape."

Abbie felt tears track down her swollen cheeks. "Bastard," she muttered.

"Such language from a lady." He looked down at her hands. "What happened?"

"Piss off! Why do you care?"

Abraham's glare hardened. "Do you pray?"

"I...sometimes. Why?"

"Then you should pray that Ichabod arrives before you die of infection."

With that, he stalked away to examine the strange white tree.

"Can...can someone die while they're in Hell?"

"Do you wish to find out?"

"No."

"Then pray harder."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _I tossed this one together as a fever dream of what I would like to see in the Season 3.5 opener - but I'm honestly not holding my breath._

 _I live on reviews, yay! Thank you all!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Pray - Ch2**

 _Spoilers up through Season 3 mid-season finale_

 _ **AN:**_ _Standard Disclaimer! I own nothing (though I would love to get Abraham for a while...)_

 _ **Join Team Brambie! See the FaceBook page for story news and fan-art!**_

 _ **facebook/teambrambie**_

* * *

She hadn't moved from her painful huddle by the time the Horseman had returned from surveying the white tree.

Abraham frowned in irritation. Reaching up, he untied his cravat and began tearing strips from the linen cloth. "Give me your hands."

"What? Why?" Abbie jerked back in alarm as he reached for her.

"Binding them will help keep the skin together and prevent further damage. It will also keep you from leaking pus everywhere and drawing unwanted attention."

"Oh..."

Abbie watched the Horseman wind the bandages around her ruined hands with a surprisingly gentle touch. Despite his care, each movement sprouted white-hot agony and she could not help the whimpers of pain that crawled out of her throat. If Abraham was embarrassed by her tears, he made no mention of it.

"It is of small consolation, but that your hands hurt is a good sign. It means that there is enough living flesh that you may recover some movement."

"Some?" she said between harsh breaths.

"Perhaps more, perhaps less." Blue eyes locked with Abbie's brown. "You have survived where many others would not, Leftenant. It would be...foolish...for me to underestimate you now."

She wasn't sure if the remark was meant as a compliment, but the way he said it made Abbie's stomach clench. It seemed wrong to hear Crane's pet name for her spoken by another.

An _enemy_.

Still, the Horseman had gone out of his way to make her more comfortable. A drop of gratitude was a small price to pay. "Thank you."

Her hands looked like props from a B-grade monster movie when he was finished, but they didn't sting quite so badly. Abbie frowned a little at the dirty cloth, wondering if she was actually adding to her chances of infection.

She thought better of voicing her concerns.

 _Gift horses and all that..._

It seemed like hours passed, but the world remained lifeless around them. The only movement was smoke drifting through the air to join the leaden sky.

"How long have you been here?" She asked, mostly to distract herself form the panic lurking in the corners of her mind.

Death gave her a hard stare, finally muttering a grudging answer: "I do not know. The light does not change, the sun does not move. Since my... _recruitment_ to the Four Horseman...I have not had to go through the rituals of food and slumber, as normal humans are wont. Time has stopped for me, so I do not have a way to measure its passage."

Abbie looked up at the featureless plane of roiling clouds pressing down upon them.

"Perhaps Time _itself_ has stopped for this entire place as well. I do not know," he said, giving voice to her thoughts.

"Have you always been here? By the tree?" she clarified at his exasperated snort. "Did you find anything? Shelter? Other people?"

"I found only rocks, dead trees and an annoying woman who tends to interfere with things best left alone."

 _He did_ not _just-_

"Fuck you!" she snapped, pushed past her limits. "I didn't ask to be caught up in this supernatural shit!"

"Neither did I!" Abraham yelled back.

"You-you could have said no! I was a _child!_ "

"Could I have said 'no'? Amazing, that it would have been so simple!" he mocked. "I was not aware that _damnation by suicide_ was the lesser of two evils!"

"At least I died sacrificing myself for others instead of for selfish revenge!"

"And yet here we are: in Hell, _together._ "

The bald fact knocked the wind out of Abbie's righteousness and it took her several moments to recover. Biting her lip, she squeezed her eyes shut tightly and counted to ten. "You're right."

The Horseman looked suspicious at her capitulation, not quite ready to let go of his own anger.

"I...I hate saying it, but...you're right. We each did things that brought us here. Maybe we were _meant_ to...maybe it's part of God's Will."

Abraham scoffed. "If God had a plan, it is surely in shambles!"

"Maybe. Maybe not. My foster-mother used to make these big tapestries; pictures of flowers and landscapes were her favorite. They were all made of these tiny, tiny stitches. I used to stare at needlework so close, so all I could see were the threads...just dots of seemingly random color...Then I would step back to look at the whole picture, and everything would fall into place.

"Maybe...maybe we just can't see past the stitches as to why we're here?"

The Horseman continued to scowl, but didn't argue against her point.

"I can't do anything with my hands and you want a way out of here. We need each other if we're to make it. Maybe that's _why_ we're both here, to help each other. So...we call a truce for now?"

He was silent for a long time, staring at her thoughtfully while grinding his teeth.

"You...make an excellent argument. One would think you were a barrister."

"I'm a cop...and a bit of a crime-drama junkie..." she admitted sheepishly.

"Very well, I accept your terms. But do not think this makes us equals."

"Of course not," Abbie rolled her eyes. "God forbid you be a feminist."

She held out her hands in surrender when he looked ready to start arguing anew.

"By the way, where is your horse? Did you leave it on Earth?"

Abraham scowled. "Daredevil was transported here, just as I was. Upon our arrival we were separated."

"Separated? You mean it ran away?"

"My steed would never have left me willingly. I say we were separated, as in: he vanished beneath me."

 _That explains the dirty pants..._

"Well...uh...maybe it returned to some stable here. I mean, it's a demon right?"

" _He_ , is a Nightmare. Yes."

"Seemed well behaved to m- _oh_ ,"Abbie made a face. "You mean a ' _Nightmare_ ', as in the creature?"

"What else would I mean?"

"Right, sorry. Modern lingo."

If anything, Abraham seemed more confused.

"Uh, maybe _he_ went home?"

The Horseman frowned, but he looked less certain than he did before. "It is...possible. Though I still find it unlikely."

"Then what do you think happened?"

Now Abraham looked outright uncomfortable. "We do not know anything of the denizens from this plane. It could be that there lives here a being more powerful than I. Perhaps they summoned Daredevil."

A chill raced across Abbie's spine at the thought. "Lets hope not."

"Agreed."

Chewing her lip, she ventured: "We could be sitting here a long time. It would be good to know what we're up against."

"What do you suggest?"

"Higher ground. We'll be able to see more, I think."

Abraham glanced at the jagged obsidian peaks surrounding them. "A dangerous proposal. We will be more visible as well."

"Beats sitting here and doing nothing."

"And if our rescue arrives while we are gone?"

"We'll leave a note," Abbie said with exasperation. "I swear, according to Crane, you used to be Mister Positiv-"

Suddenly, her vision was filled with a pair of furious ice-blue eyes as the Horseman yanked her to her feet. "If you do not wish to be injured further, refrain from speaking his name in my presence."

Abbie's own temper kindled in response. "He is my friend, just as he was yours!"

"Friend? Did your _friend_ steal from you the one you loved? Twice?"

"Crane didn't _steal_ anyone. Katrina was a grown woman who made her own mistakes. If you want to be pissed, be pissed at _her_ for lying to you!"

Abraham looked like he had been slapped.

"Look," Abbie temporized. "I know you loved her. _Both_ of you did. But she wasn't the shining paragon of virtue you all seemed to think she was. Katrina was human, with all the failings that entails."

"I am aware of that!"

"Are you? See, I had a little jaunt to the 1700s and saw for myself how women were treated. Didn't seem to me that men expected us to be anything more than brood mares or pretty dolls to be paraded around-"

"That is an unfair representation-"

"It's true though, isn't it? You wanted Katrina for your own, you didn't care what she thought of it-"

"Lies! I loved Katrina and would have done anything for-"

"Even let her go?"

"I..." the Horseman's mouth hung open, his angry words suddenly stopped by Abbie's assertion. "She did not appear unwilling."

"Of course she didn't. She knew you wouldn't take rejection well and was afraid of what you would do. It isn't consent if you make it so we can't say ' _no_ '."

His brows in a tight furrow, Abraham struggled through the concepts utterly foreign to what he had believed for centuries.

"Think on it," Abbie said, looking for a likely trail up the nearest cliff-face. "It looks like you'll have plenty of time to work it out while we're here."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _Yes, this one is sooo small, but it is running at my much more typical story length. I think it has potential, but I am a slave to the Muse. If I'm granted more for this one - I'll pass it on to you, my favorite readers, :)_


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